But there came no voice in answer, no sound of any sort. The desert had received back its secret. He was alone....
IX
"Now, don't bother any more about me!" commanded Betty Derwent, establishing herself with an air of finality on the edge of the trout stream to which she had just suffered herself to be conducted by her companion. "I am quite capable of baiting my own hook if necessary. You run along up-stream and have some sport on your own account!"
The companion, a very young college man, looked decidedly blank over this kindly dismissal. He had been manoeuvring to get Betty all to himself for days, but, since everybody seemed to want her, it had been no easy matter. And now, to his disgust, just as he was congratulating himself upon having gained his end and secured a tête-à-tête that, with luck, might last for hours, he was coolly told to run along and amuse himself while she fished in solitude.
"I say, you know," he protested, "that's rather hard lines."
"Don't be absurd!" said Betty. "I came out to catch fish, not to talk. And you are going to do the same."
"Oh, confound the fish!" said the luckless one.
Nevertheless, he yielded, seeing that it was expected of him, and took himself off, albeit reluctantly.